


I Never Knew

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Drama, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Post-War, Romance, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2018-10-27 14:09:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10810596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Ginny breaks up with Harry after accusing him of being in love with Ron. It takes months of lonley seperation for Harry to face his feelings.





	I Never Knew

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Harry woke up in a cold sweat, clammy and completely uncomfortable. The pillow that Ginny slept on, with the pillowcase he hadn’t washed since she left, was clutched tightly in his left hand. It took him a few minutes to realize that his right hand was gently stroking in. _Fantastic_ , he thought, _now I’m acting like a nutter even in my sleep_. He sat up slowly, preparing for the rush of blood from his head to select other parts of his body. He was simultaneously getting a headache and getting excited. He closed his eyes to block out the pain, but found only visions of creamy, freckled skin and flaming red hair. He sighed, resigned himself to the frustration of being separated from his love, and headed to the loo to warm up.  
  
The hot water from the shower was a welcome distraction from the depression that had overtaken him since Ginny had walked out on him two months earlier. In the shower he was free from memories of that day, free from the debilitating headaches that plagued him every time he remembered her, and realized he was alone now. As soon as he left the steamy glass box and felt the warm water chillingly evaporate from his skin, the memories returned.  
  
_He saw her in her little blue dress, perched atop the tiny suitcase that held the few things she’d kept in the house that Harry shared with Ron and Hermione. She was smiling, but her face was streaked as though she’d been crying. Harry had sat down, confused, and asked her if everything was alright. Her answer had surprised him._  
  
_“Everything is fine, Harry. But... you don’t love me anymore.” He’d hardly known what to say. Didn’t he bring her flowers when he got home late? Didn’t he support her when she tried out for the Holeyhead Harpies, even though Ron was outraged? Didn’t he fall asleep every night holding her as though he were afraid she’d fly away?_  
  
_“I do love you.” She must’ve seen it in his eyes, because her stern look softened and she took his hand in hers._  
  
_“Fine. But you don’t love me enough.” The words hurt because he couldn’t imagine loving her more. The only people in the world he loved more than her were Ron and Hermione, and she could hardly fault him for that. They were his best mates and had saved his life ten times over._  
  
_“Enough for what?”_  
  
_“Enough to want me more than anyone else.”_  
  
_“I do want you more than anyone else. There is no one in the world I want more than you.” He started to cry then, and fell to the floor in front of her. He held her around her middle, sobbing into her stomach, begging her to stay._  
  
_“You don’t know, do you?” She sounded so surprised that he leaned back to look at her._  
  
_“Know what?” She opened her mouth as if to reply, but closed it again._  
  
_“I’m going to stay with George in Diagon Alley. Please don’t come by. I’ll see you at the Burrow on Sunday for dinner. We can talk then.” She had ripped him away from her and flown out of the door. He heard her muffle a sob and spin into a circle. The familiar pop of apparation sounded in the hallway, and Harry knew she was desperate to get away if she was willing to apparate in a Muggle block of flats. Harry had sat down on the couch, unable to comprehend what had happened. It quickly became clear that Ginny had apparated first to the Ministry, and then to Wheezes as Hermione, and then Ron appeared in the flat. Hermione had sat down next to him, slowly, and taken his hand._  
  
_“She left me.” He looked up at Hermione, hopeful that she’d have a different take on things._  
  
_“I know, love. I’m so sorry.” She didn’t say she was sure Ginny would come back. She didn’t promise him everything would be okay. She just said she was sorry. It was the lack of commiseration that got Harry going. By the time Ron appeared, he had dissolved into tears. As soon as Ron tore into the room, yelling about how Ginny was a right git to leave Harry like that, Harry ran to the stairs and took the steps two at a time to outrun Ron to his room. He couldn’t look at him, with the same creamy skin and fiery hair as his sister. Ron knocked on the door for thirty minutes, before finally sliding a note underneath and mercifully leaving Harry alone. When Harry finally got up to check the note, it said:_

_Harry,_

_I’ve got no idea what’s gotten in to Ginny. Hermione’s going to have a chat with her tomorrow. We’ll be here when you’re ready to talk._

_-Ron_

  
Harry had folded up the note and hid it in his sock drawer. He went there now, unfolding it for the hundredth time. He never had gone to them to talk. In fact, in the two months since Ginny had left, Harry had spoken to Hermione and Ron less than five times. He didn’t go to the Burrow for Sunday dinner anymore, save the first Sunday when he’d made a fool of himself in front of Ginny and Charlie.  
  
He’d had his shifts changed at the Ministry so that he didn’t have to floo in with Hermione anymore, and his lunch fell at a different hour as well. He’d told them that he’d thrown himself into his work so that he wouldn’t have to think about Ginny too often. Hermione obviously didn’t buy it, but Ron did. Harry had overheard him one day, insisting Hermione leave him alone. It had actually been rather sweet.  
  
_“Hermione. Listen to me. Harry’s heartbroken. I know how he feels. Remember when you broke up with me for two weeks a few years back? I always knew you’d come back, but I remember feeling like that . Empty. Harry… he knows Ginny’s not coming back to him. She’s made it rather obvious, what with gallivanting around with Wood.”_  
  
_“Exactly, Ron. That’s why we have to be with him. We can help him to feel whole again.”_  
  
_“It doesn’t work like that, ‘Mione. We don’t make him whole. He needs to heal, and for him that means being alone.”_  
  
_“I don’t like it.”_  
  
_“Do you think I do? He’s my best mate. This is the saddest I’ve been since you dumped me. But I would do anything for him, wouldn’t you?” Ron paused, and Harry guessed Hermione had nodded. “So, this is what we have to do. We have to give him space to heal. He’ll come to us when he’s ready.”_  
  
Ron, true to his word, had left Harry alone. Hermione still tried to talk to him, sometimes cornering him at work where he couldn’t escape, but Ron just let him be. If he hadn’t overheard that conversation, it probably wouldn’t broken his heart even more.  
  
The sound of pots banging tore him out of his memories and alerted Harry that George, who had a thing for apparating straight into their kitchen, was over for a visit. Ginny was pretty worried about Harry, especially since she started dating Oliver Wood and their relationship was splashed on every Wizarding newspaper and magazine. The Quibbler had done several introspectives. She sometimes sent George to check up on Harry and make sure, in George’s own words, that he hadn’t “slit your wrists, or something.” Rather than be interrupted in a towel, Harry quickly dried off, got dressed, and headed downstairs.  
  
“Wotcher, Harry!” George was so jovial when he came to visit that Harry almost forgot why he was there.   
  
“Charlie says ‘Hiya’ and also hopes you’ll forgive him.” _Not bloodly likely_ , Harry thought. He couldn’t imagine ever facing Charlie or Ginny again after the row they’d had that first Sunday.  
  
_“Hi, Gin.” Harry was trying to be careful with what he said. He knew getting back with her was a long shot, but he loved her so much that if he could somehow salvage a friendship, he had to try._  
  
_“Hi, Harry.” She was quiet, and beautiful. She was also sitting next to Charlie._  
  
_“Er, Hi, Charlie.”_  
  
_“Hi, Harry.”_  
  
_“Do you think you could give me and Ginny some privacy?” Harry was sort of surprised he had to ask._  
  
_“Don’t think so, mate. She’s made it pretty clear that she needs me here.” Harry turned to Ginny, searching her face. Was she scared of him?_  
  
_“There’s something I want to say to you, Harry. I thought it would be better if Charlie was here. In case you get upset.” Harry had never laid a hand on Ginny, ever. Why in the world would she feel like she needed her boxy, Dragon-slaying brother to protect her?_  
  
_“You don’t have to be afraid of me, Ginny.” He tried to sound soft, but he was sure he came off bitter. Was this how little she thought of him?_  
  
_“I’m not scared of you, Harry. I just…I don’t know how you’ll react.” She looked sad, and he would've done anything to take away her pain. Instead of arguing further, he sat down and crossed his legs._  
  
_“Have at it.”_  
  
_“Harry,” Ginny looked so scared, Harry wanted badly to hold her. It took everything he had to hold himself to the spot on the sofa and not move. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”_  
  
_“Do you?” He truly wasn’t sure._  
  
_“Yes. So much. That’s why this is so hard for me.” She sighed and turned to Charlie. He whispered something in her ear, and Ginny nodded and continued. “I want you to be happy.” She started to cry then, softly, and Harry jumped up to go to her. She recoiled, “No. Please. Don’t touch me. I can’t.” Harry was so surprised by the rebuff that he cringed and sat back down.\_  
  
_“How can I be happy when I’m not with you? How can I be happy when you won’t even touch me?”_  
  
_“I just can’t, Harry. It’s different for me. I’m doing this for you. So you can have what you truly want. I still want you, but I’ll never get over you if...” Then she was in tears, clinging desperately to Charlie, who was looking at Harry as if he were the Dark Lord himself._  
  
_“Ginny, **you** are what I want. You. You are what I truly want.” Any pity Ginny had for him moments ago was gone. Suddenly she looked angry._  
  
_“Harry, I am not what you want. I am some bloddy consolation prize, and I won’t have it anymore.”_  
  
_“Who do you I fancy I want, then?”_  
  
_“Ron.” She spat out the words with force, but didn’t raise her voice. Her entire body was shaking, and suddenly she dissolved. “I see how you look at him. How you light up when he walks into a room.”_  
  
_Harry had stopped breathing. Ginny moved toward him. Was she choosing now to hug him? Her hand touched his arm. It was the connection he’d been missing all week, but he didn’t want it anymore. “Geroff.” He mumbled and she stepped back into Charlie’ arms._  
  
_“You need to face it, Harry.”_  
  
_“Bugger off, you... lying...” There was so much more he wanted to say, but he didn’t. He spun and apparated on the spot.  At the Burrow you can only apparate to the front yard, then you have to walk  the little flagstone pathway to apparate again off grounds. As Harry trudged from the front yard to the pathway, he saw a confused Mrs. Weasley staring at him from the front window. He paused, only for a moment, to remember the last time he would ever set foot at the Burrow, then he spun in place and landed back in his flat. Ron and Hermione had tried to follow him, but he wouldn’t let them in. For the seventh time that week, he cried himself to sleep._  
  
“He did what he had to do, George. He protected Ginny. I wouldn’t ever fault him for that.” Harry always found it oddly comforting to speak honestly with George. Fred’s death had softened him somehow, and he was always eager to become closer with all of his brothers, of which he considered Harry to be “the toughest and the brightest”.   
  
“Can I tell him that?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Excellent.” George’s face broke into a wide smile. “Mum sent me with a lifetime supply of stew, and treacle tart.” Harry’s mouth watered at the thought, but he felt horrible about eating Mrs. Weasley’s food when he wouldn’t go to visit her. “You should really pop by to see her, you know.”   
  
“I know.”  
  
“She cries like she used to over Percy.” This was a fact George had never shared before. Harry looked horrified, and George knew he had a hook. “You could go for lunch, no one else will be there.” It was tempting to see Mrs. Weasley. He missed her something terrible. But what if Ginny and Charlie had told her their theory? He couldn’t very well face her if she thought he was bent. “She doesn’t care, Harry.”   
  
Harry froze. Did George know? “Care about what?”  
  
“Ginny’s so-called broken heart. She knows Ginny’s the one that broke your heart, mate.” Harry breathed a sigh of relief.   
  
“I’ll go tomorrow, okay? Just don’t tell anyone else. I don’t want Bill or Charlie seeing this as an opportunity to corner me.”  
  
“Secret’s safe.” George pulled Harry into a particularly loving hug, and let him go. Then he said the thing he’d been saying every time he said goodbye since Fred died. Harry had started to get used to it, but it still surprised him slightly. “Love you, brother.”  
  
“Love you, too.” Harry smiled, despite himself. George looked really pleased, and Harry was glad he could give him that. He sat down at the small table they had crammed in the corner of their kitchen and penned a note to Mrs. Weasley.

Hi Mrs. Weasley,

 

If it’s not too much trouble, I was wondering if I could stop by the Burrow tomorrow afternoon around two to have lunch, just the two of us? 

 

Miss you,

Harry

  
He found Pigwidgeon and attached the note to his leg. It took hardly any time at all for him to return with Mrs. Weasley’s reply.

Harry darling,

 

I cannot wait to see you. Do be sure to wear a scarf and gloves, it’s rather cold outside, you know? And boots as well! 

 

Love,

MOLLY (Have I not made it clear that you should call me Molly, dear?) 

  
Harry chuckled and folded up her note. He put it in his sock drawer, with the one Ron had written, and headed off to work.   
  


Harry slept better that night than he had in months. He dreamt of creamy freckled skin and red hair, but it was a dream of seeing Mrs. Weasley again that he remembered in the morning. For the first day in a long time, Harry stopped by the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department to say Good Morning to Mr. Weasley.   
  


“Oy, Arthur!” Harry was smiling, drinking coffee from a Chudley Cannons mug that Ron had given him last Christmas, and holding out his right hand to shake when Mr. Weasley look up, surprised.   
  


“Harry?!” Mr. Weasley took the mug from Harry hand and set in on his desk before folding Harry in a hug. Suddenly Harry remembered why he liked to go to the Burrow on Sundays. He definitely missed this, his family. “I’ve missed you. We all have.” When Mr. Weasley stepped back his eyes were watery and Harry felt terrible for staying away for so long.  
  


“Me, too.” He tried to smile, to keep from crying. “It’s been rather hard. I couldn’t face everyone, you know.” Arthur nodded in understanding, and smirked.   
  


“I heard you’re joining Molly for lunch.” There was a twinkle in his eye that Harry loved, but also made him nervous.  
  


“I am. Why is that funny?”  
  


“Just you wait and see.” Arthur was smiling broadly now, and handed Harry back his coffee. “Will you be at dinner on Sunday?”  
  


“I don’t think so.” Harry smiled so Arthur would know it wasn’t him. “Not sure how many Sunday’s it’ll take before I can stand to see her sitting next to Wood.”  
  


“Me, neither. Luckily he plays Quidditch on Sundays, and she goes to watch. She hasn’t been at a Sunday dinner in ages.” Harry was surprised to hear that. Ginny loved her family. “You’re not the only one in hiding, boy.” Mr. Weasley seemed to think it was funny, but Harry did not.   
  


“That’s too bad.”  
  


“So you’ll come?” Mr. Weasley looked so eager that Harry hated to turn him down.  
  


“Let’s see how lunch goes, shall we?”  
  


“Fair enough.” Mr. Weasley gave him another hug, and sent Harry on his way. The rest of the morning and early afternoon felt odd. Hermione sent him several memos asking if he’d be at Sunday dinner. He should’ve known better than to trust Mr. Weasley with that kind of information. Instead of feeling incredible sadness, though, he felt happy. Annoyed, but happy. He was wanted there. Not just by Ron and Mrs. Weasley, but by Mr. Weasley and Hermione, too. He’d let himself forget just how wonderful it felt to be a part of a family.   
  


At 1:55 Harry rose from his desk and headed to the bay of fireplaces to floo to the Burrow. He ran into Percy on his way, and was surprised to see the smile on his face. “Mum can’t wait to see you. Don’t worry, she told the rest of us to stay away for lunch today.”  
  


“Oh. I just...” Harry started, but Percy cut him off.   
  


“No worries. You miss your Mum. Have fun.” Percy was smirking in a way that reminded Harry instantly of Bill and Fred.   
  


Harry grabbed some floo powder, stepped in the fireplace and said, as calmly as he could manage, “The Burrow.” As usual, Harry couldn’t really handle the floo. 

 

He stumbled out of the hearth, but Molly was there to catch him. She pulled him into the tightest hug he’d had in ages. Now that he thought back, George was the only one he really let hug him these days. At first the tightness of Mrs. Weasley’s hug made him anxious and uncomfortable, but after a time he began to sink into her. By the time she let go, they were both in tears. Mrs. Weasley smiled brightly. “I’ve missed you, too, dear.”  
  


Harry excused himself to the loo to get himself together, and then returned to the kitchen, where a spread worthy of Merlin himself was covering the table. “Good Godric, who else are we expecting?” Mrs. Weasley looked pleased at Harry’s response.  
  


“Ron and Hermione told me that you never join them for dinner. I thought I would make all of your favorite things so you can bring leftovers home.” Harry imagined Ron and Hermione explaining to Mrs. Weasley that they rarely saw Harry anymore because he stayed cooped in his room. The absurdity of his reaction to this break-up seemed to be hitting him over the head.  
  


“Thank you, Molly.” She beamed when he called her that, and enveloped him into another hug.   
  


“Mum next time, eh?” That made Harry chuckle, and he held her closer. Then, before he lost his nerve, he asked if he was still welcome for Sunday dinner. Mrs. Weasley began to cry, told him “Of course!” and turned around to dry her eyes. “Let’s eat, shall we?”  
  


They spent the next hour and a half (Harry would have to explain his absence later, but wasn’t worried about it at the moment) catching up. Mrs. Weasley filled him in on all of the family gossip. Apparently 

 

Ginny had been avoiding everyone since the same Sunday dinner Harry had. It seemed that George had yelled at her for “driving Harry away” and she’d disappeared in a fit of tears.   
  


“She moved on a little quickly for everyone’s taste, dear.” Mrs. Weasley looked annoyed at her daughter, which warmed Harry’s heart in a way that he knew made him seem bitter.   
  


“I’m happy for her. I just don’t want to see them together. I’m not ready.” Mrs. Weasley nodded.  
  


“Me, neither.” That got them both laughing. Harry was sad to go, but duty called, so he hugged Mrs. Weasley for the tenth time that day, and took the floo back to the Ministry. He walked quickly to Hermione’s office on the fifth floor.  
  


“All right, Hermione?” She looked up from her desk with such astonishment on her face that Harry almost laughed.   
  


“And you, Potter?” It sounded bitter, but Harry could tell she was being cautious, not yet sure how friendly to be.  
  


“Better with a kiss,” he said. It was meant to be funny, but his voice was shaking. Hermione got up and kissed him right on the lips.  
  


“Cheeky prat,” she said, but her eyes were bright and Harry could tell she was pleased.  
  


“Mmmm, I can see why Ron sticks around.” He was only trying to joke, but Hermione’s eyes flashed in horror before she recovered and smiled again.  
  


“I do other things, as well.”   
  


“I don’t doubt it.” He smiled, and took one of her hands in his, tracing a small scar above her thumb she’d gotten fifth year during their DA days. “Guess what?”  
  


“You love me again?” Hermione might have meant it to be flippant, but Harry look horrified.  
  


“I never stopped loving you! I always have, I always will...” He didn’t continue, though, because Hermione had him in her arms, stroking his hair and whispering in his ear.   
  


“I know, you git. I love you, too. I just missed you, that’s all.”  
  


“Missed you, too. Missed you more.”   
  


“Not possible.” Hermione kissed his cheek and nuzzled closer to him. “You know who else misses you, right?”  
  


“Crookshanks?” Harry wasn’t ready to deal with Ron yet. He had hardly spoken to him, and hadn’t once touched him since Charlie’s accusation. On the rare moments when he was being honest with himself, he could admit that he missed his best mate like mad. It was difficult for him to deal with. What if Ron thought Harry liked him, too? He didn’t want to ruin their friendship.   
  


“Yes, “ Hermione said, seriously. “And Ron.”  
  


Harry pulled back from her to brush some of her still bushy hair behind one ear, “I miss him, too.”  
  


“Will you eat dinner with us tonight?”  
  


“How about Sunday? At the Burrow.” Hermione looked shocked. “That was what you were supposed to guess.”  
  


“Well, it’s a good thing there wasn’t any money riding on it, because I never would have guessed that.”  
  


“I’m working late tonight, and I’m out of town the next few days for Auror training, so Sunday will have to do.”  
  


“S’alright, I accept.” She smiled so brightly that Harry was kicking himself for not dealing with things ages ago. Being loved by Hermione again warmed him up in a way even Mrs. Weasley couldn’t. He kissed her cheek, and at the last moment smacked her bottom before retreating from the room.  
  


The next few days were laden with cruses and hexes, as promised. Auror training was no joke, and Harry was supposed to be a hero so they expected a lot of him. He loved being an Auror, but missed working with Hermione and Ron. The three of them had been a balanced team. Now he had to learn to trust this new bloke, Higgins, and Harry was rather sure that would never happen. He fell asleep each night with the delicious feeling of missing home. He couldn’t wait to see everyone again, especially Mrs. Weasley.   
  


Sunday morning he took a portkey to Diagon Alley so that he could buy something to bring to Mrs. Weasley. George met him at Florish and Blotts, but they quickly determined that a book was not the right gift for the occasion.   
  


“Do you think some of Leaky’s meade or perhaps a new cauldron?” George laughed at Harry’s suggestions.   
  


“Hi Mum, sorry I’ve disappeared for a while like that prat Percy, but here’s a new cauldron full ‘o meade!”  
  


“I said meade OR a cauldron. Stop taking the mickey.” But Harry laughed, too.   
  


“I know! An owl! Erroll is so old, and constantly getting lost.”  
  


“But Mum loves him.”  
  


“Well, I’m not going to put him down, am I? I’m just going to get him a friend.” Harry dragged George into the shop and they spent an hour checking out each owl. In the back of the shop was a small snowy owl that reminded Harry of Hedwig.”I’m buying her for me. And him, for your Mum.” He was pointing at a large barn owl with dark feathers and a knowing stare. Harry wrote a short note, telling Molly the owl was for her, and set him on his way. He used his new owl, Moony, to send a note to Teddy. Harry hadn’t seen him in a few months, and was suddenly feeling like a right awful godfather.   
  


“Can we go now? I’m Hank Marvin!”  
  


“What?”  
  


“Sharvin’. Hank Marvin? Sharvin’?” With that, George dissolved into laughter. Harry rolled his eyes and pulled George into the Leakey Cauldron. They each grabbed a handful of floo and headed to the Burrow.  
Harry had planned to act like there was nothing unusual about his attendance at Sunday dinner, but Charlie shot that plan to hell immediately.  
  


“Can we talk alone please?” Charlie looked anxious, and Harry didn’t want to cause any problems, so he agreed and followed him into the downstairs bathroom in the back of the house. “I’m really sorry.”  
  


“What for?”  
  


“That day.”  
  


“Charlie...”  
  


“Harry, listen to me. That was none of my business. Or Ginny’s. Who you shag or want to shag is way out of bounds. Ginny just... she felt so bad about all of it, mate. She thinks you’d mad for Ron and if she mentioned it you would realize it and end up together and she wanted to do something nice.”  
  


“Charlie? Do I act like a pouf or something?”  
  


“No.”  
  


“Then why does Ginny think I’m bent?”  
  


“It’s not that she thinks you’re gay. She thinks you fancy Ron. She says you look at him with love, or something. And apparently you moaned his name in your sleep once.”  
  


“It was probably a bad dream where he was being hurt or something.”  
  


“That’s what I said, mate, but she’d dead set on it. Says he’s the thing you’d miss most.”  
  


“Dumbledore decided that and I wasn’t even with her then.”  
  


“Is she wrong?”  
  


“What? Of course she’s wrong, I don’t fancy Ron.”  
  


“No, I mean about him being the thing you’d miss the most. If they were both dying, and you could only save one, who would you pick?” That question stopped Harry dead in his tracks.   
  


“He’s my best mate, “ he mumbled, lamely.  
  


“What if you had to choose between Ron and Hermione?”   
  


“Hermione can take care of herself.” Suddenly he was angry. Why should he have to choose between anyone? And so what if he did choose Ron? Ron was the only one who understood him. the only one who had given him the space he needed to get over Ginny. He was Harry’s best mate, his first friend. Ginny wouldn’t hardly know Harry if it wasn’t for Ron.   
  


Harry’s heart was beating really fast, but he didn’t want to fight with George today. He sat down on the toilet lid and looked up at George. “I love Ron. I love Hermione. I love Ginny. Gods, I love Ginny. I love you, and Molly, and Arthur, and Bill, and George, and even Percy. You are all my family. I won’t apologize for or try to explain away that love.”  
  


Charlie nodded and said, simply, “Okay.”   
  


Mrs. Weasley was floored over the new owl, and announced she was calling him Tonks. Everyone laughed when Harry and George explained that Harry’s new owl was Moony. It was chaotic, a feeling Harry strongly associated with the Burrow. Fleur and Bill gave him warm hugs, and Victoire called him ‘Barry’. Ron, looking beside himself with joy, asked Harry to sit next to him at dinner. He kept one hand on the bench resting next to Harry’s leg. It was the kind of thing they did when they hadn’t seen each other for a while. Harry had never thought it was odd before, but ever since Ginny’s proclamation that Harry was in love with Ron, this touching seemed less innocent and more intimate.   
  


Arthur gave a toast about getting the family back together, which made Molly cry since Fred was gone and Ginny was “away”. There was loud conversation, and good food, and Harry felt like he was twelve again, at his first Weasley dinner. He remembered how much he loved them all, and a warm feeling he generally associated with Firewhiskey spread over his body. After too much treacle tart and far too much reminiscing, everyone prepared to go home.   
  


There was a lot of hugging. Everyone passed Victoire around, and then took turns rubbing Fleur’s belly. The hugging got out of control at one point, and Harry could have sworn he’d hugged Mrs. Weasley twice. The next thing he knew, he felt strong, muscled arms reach around his neck and heard a familiar voice whisper in his ear, “I didn’t get one yet.” Harry stopped breathing as Ron held him tight and told him he had missed him. Then he felt himself change. His muscles tensed and he felt himself get hard.   
  


He quickly moved away from Ron and announced he was knackered, but needed to run to the loo before they left. He’d never run so quickly in his life. In the privacy of the bathroom he tried to calm down, but the memory of the hug was too recent and it only made him harder. There was nothing to it, he had to get rid of the erection before rejoining his family. He unzipped his jeans and pulled it out, nearly yelling at it for appearing at such an inopportune time.   
  


He tugged on it gently, picturing, as usual, the first time he’d been with Ginny. It wasn’t working too well, and he thought maybe he’d gotten lucky and it would go away. As soon as he pictured rejoining Ron and Hermione in the foyer, he was hard again. _Hermione!_ Maybe she was the reason he was hard. He remembered her kiss the other day, then the time he’d caught her playing with her own bits in the tent seventh year. Nothing worked. He tried to remember Ron’s description of he and Hermione’s first time together. For some reason, when Harry pictured the words tumbling from Ron’s mouth, he got hard again. Ron had acted out the part where Hermione had stroked him, and picturing Ron’s hand make that movement was the jolt he needed. Suddenly Harry came all over himself. He muttered a cleaning charm and stared in the mirror. _Deal with it later_ , he thought.   
  


By the time he left the bathroom, Bill and his family had left, as had George. Charlie was giving Harry an odd look as he, too, entered the loo. “Too much treacle tart.” When had a funny tummy become less  embarrassing than wanking? Molly hugged him again, and Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him into the fireplace. When they landed in their flat, Harry groaned. Hermione had pulled too hard and he’d gone flying.   
  


“Sorry,” she muttered, “I’m just knackered, like you said.”  
  


“S’okay.” He had other things on his mind, anyway. He told Hermione and Ron that he needed to pick something up from the corner store before they closed, and headed for the door. Ron looked upset.  
  


“I thought we could talk. You know, for the first time in ages!”  
  


“We will. But you don’t close, the store does.” Harry tried to look apologetic. He took the stairs two at a time and ran until he was far enough away that they wouldn’t hear him apparate.  
  


The front door of Ginny’s flat was bright blue. Seeing it again brought back about a thousand memories that Harry had to fight to push down. He walked forward and knocked on it, lightly. He kept picturing Wood answering the door in his boxers. Not a sight he was ready for just yet. Instead Ginny came to the door, her hair piled on top of her head, wearing sweats. She didn’t look like she’d just gotten home from a Quidditch match.   
  


“Hi, Harry.” She looked mildly surprised to see him.  
  


“Hey, Gins. Can I come in?”  
  


“Sure.” She pushed some newspapers off of the loveseat and indicated that he could sit down. Harry looked around, surprised by how messy the place was. Ginny was never one for cleaning, but she hadn’t kept the place like this when they had been dating.  
  


“Is everything okay?”  
  


“Oliver broke up with me.” She didn’t look upset.  
  


“I’m sorry.”  
  


“Don’t be. He was a poor replacement for Harry Potter.” She winked, and he wasn’t sure if she was being funny, or cheeky, or self-deprecating.   
  


“You’ll never be able to replace me.” He smiled and hoped she’d been going for funny.  
  


“Well, then, I’ll die trying.” But she was giggling now, and Harry felts loads better.   
  


“Gin?”  
  


“Yeah?”  
  


“Can we be friends again?” She smiled broadly, and nodded profusely. “That’s good, because, I think you’re right.”  
  


“About what?”  
  


“Ron.”  
  


“Oh.” Her face fell and she seemed to be thinking, then she smiled.  
  


“How did you figure it out?”  
  


“That story’s too embarrassing to share.” Ginny laughed at that, and smiled again.  
  


“When are you going to tell him?”  
  


“Tell him?” Was she mental? “So that both Ron AND Hermione can hate me? Think I’ll pass.”  
  


“Why would Hermione hate you?”  
  


“I’m rather certain she’d like other contenders to stay away from her boyfriend, don’t you think?” Harry was blushing now, aware of how absurd the entire situation was.   
  


Ginny looked confused. Her mind was working, Harry could tell, and he was pleased to see he still knew her as well as he had two months ago. “Haven’t they told you?”  
  


“Told me what?”  
  


“They’ve broken up. Ages ago. I thought as soon as you and I... I thought they’d have told you by now.” Harry was floored by this news. the most important part, at first, was that they’d been lying to him.  
  


“Why didn’t they tell me?”  
  


“They were having trouble dealing with it. After they broke up, they kept getting back together and I think they were a little jealous of us. They didn’t want to admit things were rocky between them. Then Ron started getting nightmares, after you started Auror training, and he needed Hermione there so he could sleep.”  
  


Harry’s mouth was wide open and he was really confused. “We’re their best friends. We’re family. How could they think they needed to hide anything from us?”  
  


“Don’t take it personally, Harry. It’s not a reflection on you. They’re just different from us.”  
  


“Just because Ron’s single, that doesn’t mean he’s interested in me.” That was really what it was about, wasn’t it? Harry couldn’t admit his feelings to Ron. “What if he thinks it’s disgusting?”  
  


“What if he thinks it’s brilliant?”  
  


“He won’t.”  
  


“You’ll never know if you don’t ask.” Harry could still see her at age twelve, sending him cupids, paying him too much attention. She might’ve had a strong blush, but Ginny Weasley was never afraid to tell someone how she felt.  
  


“I’m not brave like you, Ginny.”  
  


“You fought the Dark Lord. Numerous times.”  
  


“That pales in comparison to losing Ron.”  
  


“Harry, if George told you he fancied you, and you weren’t interested, would he lose you?”  
  


“No.”  
  


“Right, well, even if Ron isn’t interested, you will never lose him. I swear on Merlin’s grave.”  
  


Harry moved over to the couch she was on and pulled her into a hug. He held her like he had after Dumbledore died. He held her like she was the only thing keeping him on the ground. “I loved you, you know. Still do.”  
  


“I know.”  
  


He got up and headed to her door. He apparated to the hallway in front of the door to his flat and slowly walked in.  
  


“Whad’ya get?” Ron was sitting on the couch, he didn’t look very comfortable. In fact, he looked anxious.  
  


“They were out.”  
  


“Of what?” Harry really hadn’t prepared a better answer, so he just shrugged and stepped into the kitchen. Ron, of course, followed him.  
  


“Why are you still avoiding me?” Ron looked so sad and Harry didn’t really know what to say.  
  


“What are you talking about?”  
  


“You visited with Mum, and Dad, and George, and Charlie and you even talked to Hermione, but one hug from me and you ran away.”  
  


“I had to pick something up from the store.”  
  


“What? What did you have to pick up?”  
  


“Please just leave it, Ron.”  
  


“I can’t leave it. I don’t want to leave it. I’ve been leaving it for months. I’ve been the one insisting that everyone else leave you bloody alone. Why am I the one person you still won’t talk to?”  
  


“I just needed some space.” Harry knew it sounded lame. It was lame. But his heart was beating so wildly that he couldn’t even look at Ron. He was afraid his heart would explode.  
  


“Not anymore. No more space.” Ron moved toward Harry slowly, and decidedly. All of the sudden he was standing so closely that Harry could feel his breath on his cheek. He could hear Ron’s heart beating, not quite in rhythm with his own.   
  


“Ron...” It was a whisper. He was begging, poorly. Ron took it as an invitation, he moved so close to Harry that every part of their bodies were touching. Harry felt Ron’s erection pushing against his thigh. His own was there, too. After a beat, without really thinking about it, he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to Ron’s. It felt... brilliant. And then, just as quickly, it felt horrible. What if Ron didn’t want that? He probably just wanted to be close to Harry the same way he liked to rest his hand near his leg at dinner. 

Harry backed away and apparated on the spot.   
  


As he looked around the room he was in now he couldn’t figure out where he had apparated. He was right lucky he hadn’t splinched himself.   
  


“Harry?” He looked up to see Neville Longbottom standing there, holding a beer. _Dear Gods_ , he thought, _I’m in a room at the Leakey Cauldron._  
  


“Hi, Neville. I’m sorry, I was upset and not paying attention to where I apparated.”  
  


“That’s okay, mate. Just glad you didn’t do that twenty minutes ago. Would’ve given Hannah a scare.” Neville blushed and Harry felt rotten. Neville was happy and getting more action than him. Brilliant. “Is everything alright?”  
  


“I just kissed Ron.” Harry was surprised how easy it had been to say out loud to Neville.  
  


“Didn’t he like it?” Harry laughed.  
  


“No idea, mate. I apparated a millisecond after it happened.” Neville frowned.  
  


“Didn’t you like it?” What a question. Yeah, he liked it, but if Ron didn’t...  
  


“It was...intense. Like, all of the colors, and memories, and magic, and light in the entire world were rushing through my brain all at once.” Neville smiled, but tried to hide it.”Yeah, reckon I’m a shirtlifter, eh?”  
  


“You think?” Neville was laughing now. He walked over and gave Harry a hug. “It’s been too long, mate.” His eyes were slightly watery, and Harry could remember nothing but the moment when he saw Neville, sword in hand, ready to behead Nagini.  
  


“Entirely too long, “ he agreed.   
  


“Maybe you and Ron can have me and Hannah over, when you figure things out.” Neville looked so hopeful, it made Harry rather sad.  
  


“Work what out? I’m just hoping he can forgive me for attacking him and move on.” Suddenly there was a bang on the window as Moony tapped her beak.  
  


“That your owl?”  
  


“Yeah, it is.” Harry moved to the window to let Moony in. She had a letter wrapped around both legs and she looked hungry.   
  


“I’ll get her some food.” Neville retreated from the room, and Harry removed both letters from Moony. The first was scribbled in crayon and had to be from Teddy.

 

Harry,

 

Grannie says to invite you for tea on Wednesday. Please come!

 

Love, your godson, Teddy

 

Harry folded up the note and placed it in his pocket. The other note was messy, but Harry could tell Ron’s handwriting anywhere.

 

Get your bleeding arse home this instant. I’m running out of patience.

 

-Ron

 

Neville reappeared with the owl feed and Moony flew to him gleefully. “Important?”  
  


“I have to go.”   
  


“Look, Harry.” Neville paused, considering what to say. “I’ve known you and Ron since first year, right? I shared a room with you for six years. I fought with you. I love you both.” He stopped again, and Harry thought perhaps that was all he had to say. “Tell him how you feel. Before it’s too late.”  
  


Harry put his hand out to shake Neville's, but received another hug instead. He gave in and hugged Neville back. “I’ll owl you later, let you know how it turns out.”  
  


“Do that.” Harry turned on the spot and apparated into the living room of his flat. Hermione was sitting on the couch, looking irritated.  
  


“I’ve had enough of this.” She looked so angry, Harry was afraid to say anything. “I’m going to stay at Ginny’s. I’ll be back tomorrow. Figure this out.” Her face softened slightly as she pulled him into a hug.   
  


“I think I love him, ‘Mione.” He felt horrid admitting it to her. He was so worried she would hate him.  
  


“Then go love him.” With that, she was gone. Harry heard the sound of squeaking stairs and slowly, apprehensively turned around.   
  


“Hiya, Ron.” His voice was shaking and he was worried he would lose his nerve.  
  


“You have to stop running away from me.” Ron was clearly angry, but he was keeping his voice soft, probably trying not to scare Harry away.  
  


“I know.” He started walking towards Ron. Ron moved towards him as well. Soon there were barely twelve inches between them. “I love you, mate.”  
  


“I love you, too.” Ron leaned forward and pushed his lips against Harry’s. They were both pushing desperately, their tongues moving vigorously across teeth, their noses bumping and foreheads touching.   
  


“Don’t do this unless you mean it.” Harry’s voice was so shaky, he was so scared.   
  


“I would do anything for you.” Ron kissed him again, hungrily but Harry stopped kissing. Harry pushed back and glared at him.   
  


“Don’t do me any favors.”  
  


“Harry!”  
  


“No, Ron, honestly. Just because I’m bent doesn't mean you have to...” His face was pained, his words hollow. “I’ll still love you. You don’t have to do this.”  
  


Ron took both of Harry’s hands in his and pushed him against a wall. He leaned in so that their noses were grazing and spoke forcefully. “I love you, Harry. I want you, Harry. I want this.” He wiped the tears from Harry’s cheek and kissed him there.  
  


“Are you sure?” Harry wasn’t breathing as he waiting to hear Ron’s response.  
  


“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. It’s why it took me and Hermione so long to get together. It’s why we broke up. It’s why we pretended to be together even after it was over. It’s why I brought you home to the Burrow. It’s why I came back, seventh year. It’s why I found you, in the water. It’s why...” Ron was crying now, “it’s why I was the thing you’d miss the most, wasn’t it?” Ron looked desperate to hear Harry’s response.

  
Harry pulled Ron close to him and whispered into his hair, “You’re my wheezy.”

Ron groaned and pushed his erection against Harry’s. Suddenly they were nothing but desire. They were kissing and grinding and touching everywhere. Ron pulled Harry’s shirt off and then removed his own. He brushed his hands over Harry’s nipples and Harry gasped.

“You like that, do you?”

“Mmmmmm.” Harry pushed closer so that their chests were touching. “Don’t ever stop touching me.”

“I won’t.” Ron leaned over to kiss Harry’s neck, and nibble his ear. “I love you.”

“Love you, more.” Harry unbuttoned Ron’s pants with shaky hands. Ron put his hands over Harry’s and helped him.

“We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want.” He leaned back to look into Harry’s eyes.

“I want,” Harry insisted. Ron removed both of their pants and stroked Harry through his boxers. “Merlin… that feels… dear Gods!”

Ron snickered and stroked Harry harder. Then he fell to his knees and Harry almost had a heart attack as Ron pulled down his boxers and took Harry’s cock into his mouth. Suddenly Harry was fucking Ron’s mouth, bucking in and out with all of the force he could muster. He was groaning incoherently. “I love you. Love. So much. More. Want you. More.” 

Ron pushed one finger into Harry’s entrance and Harry moaned. “I’ll give you more.” Harry was grunting and gasping and suddenly, coming. He came in Ron’s mouth, and it was the most erotic site. He remembered doing that with Ginny, but it hadn’t been like this. Ron was still hard, and Harry wanted to please him. He reached down to touch Ron’s cock and Ron’s face got red. Harry was about to fall to his knees, but Ron stopped him.

“I want to fuck you.” Ron sounded so much older when he spoke like that. 

“Wh… what?” Harry was immediately nervous.

“I love you. I want you. I want to be inside you.” Ron pushed Harry onto the couch and summoned some lube from his room. The rubbed in into Ron’s entrance, and put some on Harry’s hand so he could prepare Ron’s cock. “I’ll be gentle, love.”

Harry was nervous, but felt so much love that he gladly opened up for Ron. Once Ron had pushed inside, it didn’t take long for him to come. It was just long enough for Harry to get hard again. As Ron was getting close, he took Harry’s cock in his hand and leaned over to kiss him. “I love you.”

“I love you. Come inside me.” With that they both came, covering their stomachs in sticky, wonderful lust. They were panting as Ron curled net to Harry on the couch.  
  
“You came back sooner than I thought you would. You don’t usually listen to me so quickly.”  The confident lover was suddenly small and vulnerable. Harry wrapped his arms around Ron and kissed his shoulder.

“You said you were losing patience. I didn’t want to take too long. I didn’t want to be too late. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You could’ve taken forever, mate. I still woulda been here. You will never lose me.”

“When did you start loving me?”

“I’ve loved you for years, since forever.”

Harry nuzzled into him and said, “I never knew.”  
  
  



End file.
